


Say Please

by DarylDixonGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal, Blood Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rickyl, Sex, Smut, bottom!daryl, top!rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonGrimes/pseuds/DarylDixonGrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anonymous asked: Unf I need some extremely filthy dirty talking degrading humiliating Rick." </p>
<p>A little short I wrote in response. I would've put it in the Rickyl collection, but I do what I want. Not enough of a plot to write a summary other than, "Rick and Daryl fuck. Also there's blood (not theirs)."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Please

They’re still covered in blood and walker gunk when Rick throws Daryl onto the hood of the rusted old Cadillac. He’s keyed up and swimming in adrenaline, and that was too close. Too fucking close not to finally fucking do this.   
  
“Rick, what the h-”  
  
“Shutup,” Rick says, one hand gripped tight around Daryl’s wrists, pressing them down into the cold metal. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me you don’t want me to do this, and I’ll stop, and we’ll never mention it again. Or you don’t say anything, and I bend you over this car and make you forget every single word you know that isn’t my name.”  
  
Daryl stares at him, eyes dark and inscrutable.  
  
“One…”  
  
“Do it.”

Defiant little shit. Rick flips him, forcing him face down against the car, smearing his cheek into some of the viscera that made its way there. Daryl doesn’t even seem to notice. Blood and guts are a second skin to them after all this time.   
  
“Any idea how gorgeous you are?” Rick asks, already tugging both their pants down. He rubs a hand over Daryl’s ass, licks his own fingers, and starts working. “Any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this? To have you? To  _ruin_  you?”  
  
“Fuck,” Daryl gasps, right as his body gives way and lets Rick slip two fingers inside. And Rick knows it has to burn. But Daryl pushes back instead of protesting, so he digs them in farther. And when he finally achieves every inch, he starts a rhythm, fucking the hunter with them, working his digits in and out, leaning down to spit right onto Daryl’s willing hole while he does.   
  
“That’s it,” Rick says. “Gonna open you up nice and wide for me.”   
  
He grabs Daryl around the middle, forcing his back to arch so that his ass is higher in the air. Rick tilts his head to the right, surveying the view of his fingers buried inside the other man.   
  
“Been waiting too long to see you like this. Ass up and ready for me.” Rick starts getting himself ready. Spit, spit, and more spit into the palm of his hand, stroked up and down his length. It’s not enough and he knows it the whole time he’s pushing inside, but it’s all they’ve got.   
  
“Rick…” Daryl jerks his head. Rick follows the movement. Two walkers creeping their way out from somewhere in the nearby woods.  
  
“Here.” He puts the loaded crossbow into Daryl’s hand without pulling out. “See if you can nail one like this.”  
  
“Are you fucking…”  
  
“Don’t miss,” Rick says, rocking his hips out and back in.   
  
Daryl mumbles something gruff and incoherent, and he shoots. The walker on the right falls.   
  
“Good job.”   
  
“That’s what you think. Was aimin for the other one.” He throws a glare at Rick and pushes back onto his cock.  
  
“Guess you need two hands to reload that thing.” Rick hikes one leg up onto the front bumper, laughing quietly when the change in angles makes Daryl bite his lip, his groan audible even trapped inside his mouth.   
  
“Two… hands and a foot.” The archer pushes back harder, rocking onto Rick’s erection. “Asshole.”    
  
“I’ll take care of it.”   
  
“Might have to…stop if you’re g…Fuck.”   
  
Rick glances over, shrugs, increases the pace. Some loose part of the old car starts squeaking. He keeps his ears focused, listening to the thing’s feet shuffle closer on the gravel-strewn asphalt, watching it shamble in his periphery. But he doesn’t stop. Too long. He’s waited too long to fucking stop.  
  
“Rick…” Daryl sounds more wary than truly alarmed. A few more steps and it’ll be on them. He rams in a thrust and Daryl’s moan tears past the barrier of his lips. The hunter slams a hand down on the bloody car hood, reaching for something, anything to grip, but he finds nothing.   
  
“Rick.” A little more insistent. Rick slides his eyes over, focusing on the creature, waiting for the right moment, all the while pounding into Daryl’s hungry and willing ass.  
  
“Told you I’d take care of it,” he says. “Now close those pretty blue eyes and focus on how I feel inside of you. This one’s mine just like you are.”  
  
Daryl closes them. As a reward, Rick reaches around and gives the hunter’s cock a couple quick strokes while he can still afford not having his hand free.   
  
He can hear the walker drawing ragged breaths now, can smell its putrid decaying stench. Cold and dead. It’s a stark contrast to the warm, living heat of Daryl’s body around him.   
  
“That’s it,” Rick says, watching it moving right where he wants it.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Rick.” Daryl’s got his eyes open again, wide. Definite alarm this time. Rick rams in a particularly brutal thrust that makes Daryl whimper and moan. All the while, the walker leans down, yellowed teeth aiming for Daryl’s arm. Daryl yanks it back, tucking it underneath himself.   
  
“What the fucking fuck, Rick? Rick!” The walker tries again, attempting to crawl onto the car to reach, and Rick slips his hand on the back of its neck, slamming it face-down. Once, twice, three times until its face smashes to pieces, splattering them both with gore. Blood runs down the slope of the hood and drips onto the pavement.  
  
“I told you I had it.” Rick grabs hold of Daryl’s hips with both hands, smearing pale skin with red. He pounds harder, tearing a groan free from the other man’s chest.  
  
“Gonna kill you after you finish.”   
  
“Awful nice of you to let me finish first.” Rick reaches around again, grabbing hold and tugging.   
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“Tell me how that feels,” Rick says, squeezing gently on the upstroke, matching the pace of his hips.   
  
“Gonna…”  
  
“Ask nicely.”   
  
“Screw you. I don’t have to ask for dick after that.”   
  
“Suit yourself.” Rick lets go. “But I’d really prefer to finish before whatever heard you screaming shows up.”   
  
“Be lucky if I ever let you do this again,” Daryl says, all the while rutting back against him like an animal in heat, forcing him deeper inside.   
  
“Liar.”  
  
“Damn’t, Rick.”   
  
“It’s not hard, Daryl. You wanna cum all over this rusty piece of shit, say ‘please.’”   
  
“Please.”   
  
“Please what?” Rick reaches around again, grips, strokes, fucks. Daryl reaches out for something to grab again, hand slipping through the fresh walker mess, fingernails finding and digging into the crack where hood meets body. Not enough to grab. Rick fucks harder, strokes faster. Daryl’s hand slaps down onto the metal. Liquid splatters out from underneath it, painting his face like a Pollock.  
  
“I’m gonna stop again, Daryl,” Rick threatens. “If you don’t beg me to let you cum, I’m going to stop. I’m going to finish on your gorgeous, tight ass, and I’m going to leave you like this.”   
  
“Liar.”   
  
“Beg me.” Rick loosens his grip so his strokes barely graze the skin. He forces his hips to still. Daryl squirms beneath him.   
  
“Please, Rick.”   
  
“Please, Rick what?” Rick tickles his fingers down the underside of Daryl’s cock.  
  
“Goddamn’t, Rick.”   
  
“No, that’s not right either.”   
  
“Please… please can.. will you…”   
  
“I know you can do it. Known you a while. Heard you say filthier shit than this, Daryl.”  
  
“Rick,” Daryl growls, jerking his head toward the treeline again. Four walkers this time. No, make that five.   
  
“Guess you’d better hurry up and wrap those dirty little lips around the right words, you reckon?”    
  
“Are you fucking kiddin me?”   
  
“We can be done and headed back to Alexandria before they get here.” Rick rocks his hips once to make the point. Daryl shudders. “C’mon, sweet pea. ’Please Rick, can I cum?’ That’s all I need from you, and we can get the hell out of here.”   
  
Daryl looks at him, clenches around him, and growls his words.   
  
“Please, Rick, can I fucking finish before we both die with our damn pants down?” And the five walkers headed their way are the only reasons Daryl isn’t immediately punished, toyed with over and over until he can’t remember how to do anything  _but_  beg.  
  
“That’ll work. But you’re gonna pay for the tone later.” Rick wraps his hand firmly back around Daryl and starts stroking. It’s vigorous and so are the movements of his hips, pounding away, slamming Daryl’s body against the car.   
  
“You’ve got about ten seconds before I won’t be able to help you anymore,” Rick says, fighting back his own orgasm. Too much of a gentleman to finish first if he can help it. But they’ve probably got about a minute tops before they need to be sliding into the car.   
  
“Won’t need ‘em.” Daryl’s arm moves again, this time reaching underneath his body, wrapping around Rick’s hand and helping him stroke harder, moving his fist just the way he likes to be touched. He stops breathing, huffs a few breaths, and then groans loud. Rick can feel him pumping out his orgasm, his cock twitching in his hand. He lets go too, moaning gruffly and filling Daryl with his own cum.   
  
There’s no time for panting, for stroking fingers through Daryl’s hair, or thanking him with a dozen kisses planed onto the back of his neck, not yet at least. The proximity of the walkers barely even gives him time to admire the glob of cum that drips out of the archer’s ass before they’re both scooting into the car, pants not even fully done up yet.   
  
“Drive,” Daryl says, loading the bow with red-stained hands even though they’re safe inside.   
  
They’re ten miles or so down the road before either of them speak again.  
  
“Next time, you’re fucking me indoors,” Daryl doesn’t turn his head when he says it, but Rick knows he’s looking at him anyway. Watching for a reaction. Observing. Assessing.  
  
“Thought you weren’t letting me do it again?” Rick teases.   
  
“Thought you knew that was a lie?” Daryl counters.  
  
They drive on. 


End file.
